You Don't Belong Here (But I Still Think You Might)
by RavenclawGenius
Summary: Mitchsen: Aubrey understands why Chloe spots her; understands why Chloe shuffles instantly around and shifts, just that tiny inch closer; understands why she is compelled to reach out.


" _What about her?"_

* * *

Aubrey understands why Chloe spots her; understands why Chloe shuffles instantly around and shifts, just that tiny step closer; understands why she is compelled to reach out.

* * *

" _Want to join our acapella group?"_

* * *

Because it isn't _difficult_ to spot her.

Spotting her isn't the problem.

This girl – Aubrey doesn't know her name; has never met her before; in fact, doesn't care to meet her now – with metal rings hooped through ears that lie only inches above a bulky, gaudy pair of headphones, laced around a slim, pale neck like a talisman.

This girl, with bare lips but curiously, heavily shaded eyes that shimmer a little, anyway – like they hide too many secrets behind eyeliner that is already too bold; too tired of working to really conceal them properly.

This girl with ink branded across her flesh in shapes only visible in flashes – because Aubrey will not stare; will not wish for a fuller glimpse; has no reason to; has no rational explanation for doing so, and thus, will not – and black polish coating across fingers that reach out to grasp at Chloe's offering like the color itself should be foreboding enough, on its own.

* * *

" _Oh, right. This is, like, a_ thing _, now."_

* * *

No, spotting her is easy.

She is the thing that is different; the thing that is noticed in a crowd like this one because she is the only thing in it that doesn't belong. She is the Waldo of the picture, though she dims red stripes until they are black, and shades white stripes until they grey; dims all the color of herself into the darkest, most repellant void she can, because she is the only thing that is different – the only thing that does not belong – and she knows it.

Aubrey thinks she must know it; thinks she must know how, even hidden behind her bleak colors and face-painted masks, she still is a swollen, throbbing, _massively_ sore thumb perched in the quad at the center of campus.

She must know it.

Chloe, at least, sees it instantly.

And she misinterprets, or misunderstands. Aubrey isn't sure which; does not know; does not care.

Somehow, it doesn't _click,_ with Chloe.

She doesn't take in the whole picture, and she misses the grandest stroke; misses the most important part of this encounter; misses the part where temptation is singing sweet siren lullabies and Chloe is so quickly falling victim to her sin.

* * *

" _You must be a freshman."_

* * *

But Chloe– oh, she is too _naïve._

If it could be meant in a good way, Aubrey might rephrase, but there is no other way to mean it, really, but one.

* * *

" _Sorry, but- that sounds kinda lame."_

* * *

Sweet Chloe is _naïve_.

And this girl is amused, but Aubrey cannot discern if she is mocking, too; cannot distinguish if the emotion in her face is twisted up that way in apology or discomfort; cannot tell if her laugh is surprised or scornful, and does not truthfully care.

* * *

" _Aca-scuse me? We played the Cobb Energy Performing Arts Center, you bitch."_

* * *

It is a severe reaction, of course, because – already – Aubrey understands everything she needs to know about this girl; this girl with her earrings, and her headphones, and her make-up; this girl with her secrets, and her tattoos and black polish.

Because Chloe sees the girl who does not belong and _coos_ at her; shows her patience and a blinding smile that is all teeth and glitter and wants to _keep her_ ; wants to tuck her inside of her purse and give her a collar and a home, all in one fell swoop, but Aubrey is not fooled, because she _knows_ better – and, truly, she ought to.

Posens are taught many rules, but the most important one is always, _always_ to have them.

This girl defies rules; defies their concept and their purpose.

Defies even their existence.

This girl is the real-life embodiment of a rebel without a cause, and as that, she is _fine;_ she is _dormant,_ and it is best for everyone (best for Aubrey; best for _Chloe;_ best for her Bellas and her _sanity_ ) that she remains that way.

But give that girl a cause and she will wreak _havoc_ in her rebellion.

Aubrey is sure of it.

* * *

 _Author's Note:_ I don't really know what this is, or even really have any plans for it. I was kinda just struck by the urge to write a short little Mitchsen snippet, so I did; turns out, I kinda like it. A little different from my usual, but fun to write, anyway. What do you think? I could add more later on, so I'm not marking it complete, but it's not an immediate craving, for me, so don't get too excited. I'm sorta just as happy to leave it the way it is.


End file.
